Transcribed from the 1864 Chapman & Hall “Tales ofAll Countries” edition , email
The Pyreneean valley in which thebaths of Vernet are situated is not much known to English, orindeed to any travellers. Tourists in search of good hotelsand picturesque beauty combined, do not generally extend theirjourneys to the Eastern Pyrenees. They rarely get beyondLuchon; and in this they are right, as they thus end theirperegrinations at the most lovely spot among these mountains, andare as a rule so deceived, imposed on, and bewildered by guides,innkeepers, and horse-owners, at this otherwise delightful place,as to become undesirous of further travel. Nor do invalidsfrom distant parts frequent Vernet. People of fashion go tothe Eaux Bonnes and to Luchon, and people who are really ill toBaréges and Cauterets. It is at these places thatone meets crowds of Parisians, and the daughters and wives ofrich merchants from Bordeaux, with an admixture, now by no meansinconsiderable, of Englishmen and Englishwomen. But theEastern Pyrenees are still unfrequented. And probably theywill remain so; for though there are among them lovelyvalleys—and of all such the valley of Vernet is perhaps themost lovely—they cannot compete with the mountain sceneryof other tourists-loved regions in Europe. At the Port deVenasquez and the Brèche de Roland in the WesternPyrenees, or rather, to speak more truly, at spots in the closevicinity of these famous mountain entrances from France intoSpain, one can make comparisons with Switzerland, Northern Italy,the Tyrol, and Ireland, which will not be injurious to the scenesthen under view. But among the eastern mountains this canrarely be done. The hills do not stand thickly together soas to group themselves; the passes from one valley to another,though not wanting in altitude, are not close pressed togetherwith overhanging rocks, and are deficient in grandeur as well asloveliness. And then, as a natural consequence of all this,the hotels—are not quite as good as they should be.
But there is one mountain among them which can claim to rankwith the Píc du Midi or the Maledetta. No one canpooh-pooh the stern old Canigou, standing high and solitary,solemn and grand, between the two roads which run from Perpignaninto Spain, the one by Prades and the other by Le Boulon. Under the Canigou, towards the west, lie the hot baths of Vernet,in a close secluded valley, which, as I have said before, is, asfar as I know, the sweetest spot in these Eastern Pyrenees.
The frequenters of these baths were a few years back gatheredalmost entirely from towns not very far distant, from Perpignan,Narbonne, Carcassonne, and Bézières, and the bathswere not therefore famous, expensive, or luxurious; but those whobelieved in them believed with great faith; and it was certainlythe fact that men and women who went thither worn with toil, sickwith excesses, and nervous through over-care, came back fresh andstrong, fit once more to attack the world with all itswoes. Their character in latter days does not seem to havechanged, though their circle of admirers may perhaps be somewhatextended.
In those days, by far the most noted and illustrious person inthe village of Vernet was La Mère Bauche. That therehad once been a Père Bauche was known to the world, forthere was a Fils Bauche who lived with his mother; but no oneseemed to remember more of him than that he had onceexisted. At Vernet he had never been known. LaMère Bauche was a native of the village, but her marriedlife had been passed away from it, and she had returned in herearly widowhood to become proprietress and manager, or, as onemay say, the heart and soul of the Hôtel Bauche atVernet.
This hotel was a large and somewhat rough establishment,intended fo